


The Boltzmann Constant

by pirl



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: David Rose is a Good Person, M/M, everyone is mostly healthy, not knowing is sometimes scarier, nothing too serious, supportive boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 07:02:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21798061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirl/pseuds/pirl
Summary: Patrick gets some mildly bad news from the doctor. David, in true fashion, doesn't do mild.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 65
Kudos: 141
Collections: Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night 2.0





	The Boltzmann Constant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melwritesthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melwritesthings/gifts).

> Second Open Fic Night! Woo!! My ask was to have one of the boys step up for the other and show selfless love and mutual appreciation. 
> 
> The Boltzmann constant is a physical constant that relates the average relative kinetic energy of particles in a gas with the temperature of the gas. Essentially it deals with pressure and my cavewoman brain pounded her fist on the computer and grunted, "sound good for title."
> 
> Thanks to [pollitt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt) for the beta! Any errors or gaffs are due to me changing things after beta-ing and not letting it get a 2nd look. I *think* I resolved all of my POV issues. I think... >.>
> 
> Enjoy or send raspberries.

David lifted the receiver on the store’s phone and answered the call with a bright tone. 

“Rose Apothecary.”

“Oh, um… hi? I’m trying to reach Patrick Brewer.” The young woman on the other end sounded very confused and unsure.

“He stepped out for a moment. This is David speaking. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Uh, no. I think I got the phone numbers mixed up. I’m calling from Dr. Beyerly’s office.”

“Well, I can give you his cell number.” David gave the information to the young woman, who confirmed that it was indeed the other number they had on file and she would fix it so the store wasn’t listed as Patrick’s home number. 

David hung up the phone and stared at it. Patrick had a routine doctor’s visit the other week and told David that everything was fine. So why was the doctor trying to get a hold of him? That wasn’t normal, right? Unless they had bad news. Right?

His dark thought train was derailed by Patrick walking in the front door with their lunch order. “Twyla said that they ran out of mayo, so she used extra butter on your sandwich.” He walked around the counter and pressed a kiss to David’s cheek. Noticing his lack of response to the butter news, Patrick asked, “You okay?”

David shook his head and pasted on a smile. “Yeah, yep. Your, uh, doctor? Called? I gave them your cell-”

He was interrupted by Patrick’s cell phone ringing. Digging it out of his pocket Patrick looked down at it and guessed, “That must be her.” He walked past David and into the back room, still carrying their lunches, before answering the call. 

David leaned closer to the doorway, shamelessly trying to overhear whatever he could when the bell above the entrance chimed. Much to David’s chagrin, a woman--who was wearing a jacket that David was one hundred percent certain was made from squirrels--walked directly toward him and asked about a moisturizer that a cousin of a friend let her try that she absolutely had to buy but she didn’t know what it looked like, or what it was called, but was sure that it had a rose on the label. 

Satisfied with her purchases, the squirrel-pelted woman eventually left and David was able to make his way into the back room. He found Patrick sitting at their makeshift desk space picking the cheese off his tuna melt. David walked up behind him and rubbed his hands along Patrick’s shoulders. Keeping his tone light and as nonchalant as he was capable, he asked, “Everything okay with the doctor?” 

“Hmm? Yeah, just--” Patrick sighed and gestured rather defeatedly to his lunch where David saw a sad pile of picked-over cheese, “my cholesterol is pretty high.” He shrugged as he lifted the now-mutilated sandwich from the container. “I guess I’ll need to be more careful with what I eat.” He took a bite and David sat down.

David opened the take-out container Patrick had placed on his side of the desk and eyed his Monte Cristo sandwich with suspicion. “High cholesterol?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said around the food in his mouth. “I mean, I’m not surprised. It was inevitable I guess. My dad’s been on cholesterol medication for years, and my grandpa Brewer died of heart disease when I was in high school,” he added, disappointment in his voice.

David’s head bobbed, nodding. He didn’t quite know what to say since all the air seemed to have suddenly left his lungs, so he grabbed a french fry instead and nibbled on it as Patrick continued.

“I need to go in again on Tuesday. Something about liver enzymes?” He shrugged, definitely sounding more puzzled than concerned. “I’m not really sure. They need to draw more blood to run more tests.”

Still nodding, David chewed the food that had suddenly gone sour and dry in his mouth. On the other side of the wall the bell above the door chimed as another customer walked in.

“I’ll get it,” David announced. He dropped the rest of his french fry back into the container as he jumped up from his chair and headed toward the main room, leaving the conversation and his lunch behind him. 

\--------

A couple of days later…

“What’s all this?” Patrick leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to David’s cheek. David stood in the doorway to Ray’s house, his arms weighed down with two overflowing shopping bags. He handed one bag off to Patrick and made his way around him and headed to the kitchen. After setting his bag down on the counter with a slightly exaggerated groan, David moved aside so Patrick could do the same. 

“Um… they’re groceries.” David turned to face him with a look that asked _Isn’t it obvious?_

Curious, Patrick picked a box from the top of one of the bags and read the label out loud. “Quinoa pasta?” 

He arched an eyebrow at David who averted his eyes as he started to unload the bags. “I just thought we could make some healthier choices.” He said coyly. 

Patrick set the box down and got behind David. He snaked his arms around his chest, wrapping David in a hug as he warmed the back of his neck with a kiss. “Thank you. This is very sweet of you.”

\--------

Patrick had stopped by the doctor’s office first thing in the morning so they could do the extra blood work. David had opened the store, even though it wasn’t his day to do so and Patrick had steadfastly assured him the previous night that he would be back in time to do it himself. 

“They said it would just take a few minutes.” Patrick sat down on the couch with two cans of Lacroix and one glass of ice. Popping the tab, he slowly poured one can into the glass and handed it to David, which he took with a soft, “thank you,” before pointing out the error of Patrick’s ways.

“And what? And risk getting into a terrible accident because you were rushing back to open the store? I’m actually capable of opening, you know. I do it twice a week.”

“Yeah, but this will make it three times.” Patrick teased, taking a sip from his can.

David looked at him smugly, “I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me.”

Patrick smiled--he knew he had David’s number. “Ray has _‘Four Weddings and a Funeral’_ on Bluray.”

David closed his eyes, inhaling sharply and pausing to compose his response so he wouldn't seem too eager or easily acquiescing. “I get to say whatever I want about how much Andie MacDowell couldn’t give an erection to a frat boy on Viagra.”

“Of course.”

“And you don’t get to tease me when I cry at the funeral.”

He smiled fondly at David. “I wouldn’t dare.” 

A slow but steady stream of customers kept David busy the following morning before Patrick eventually joined him. The day continued that way until a lull in the afternoon had David on a ladder, dusting the tops of shelves just to keep his mind and body busy without committing to doing inventory.

“David? Mr. Nassir is on hold for you.” Patrick was at the counter, holding up the receiver to the phone.

David made his way down the ladder and bounded over. He pressed the Hold button and cheerfully answered, “Hello, Salah!”

Patrick busied himself around the store while David talked, and when he hung up he shared the news. “That was Salah. You know, the guy who made those delicious little sesame and pistachio cookies? He’s working on some gluten-free goodies and he’s bringing some samples for us to try out in the store.”

“Gluten-free?”

“Mm-hmm.” David turned his attention to straightening up some bottles that didn’t need it. “There are studies that say avoiding gluten can help with things like irritable bowel syndrome, arthritis, high cholesterol…” David rushed the last two words out slightly softer. He sneaked a quick glance at Patrick and found the other man staring at him, his lips twisted up into a small grin. He smirked and went back to futzing with the bottles. 

“Is that so?” Patrick asked, ambling his way over to David who turned to face him. Once he was within reach, David placed his arms on Patrick’s shoulders. 

“Yep. I’ve heard it’s also supposed to enhance your libido.”

“Not that that needs any help,” Patrick vowed.

“Not that that needs any help.” David agreed.

They shared a slow, soft kiss before David added, “I’ve also got some kombucha coming later this week from the mushroom lady. She says we could brew it ourselves but I think that’s just inviting disaster, plus I’d never give up the closet space.” David swept his hands down to Patrick’s biceps and squeezed. “By the way, she one hundred percent grows magic mushrooms. So file that knowledge for later.” 

Patrick shook his head as he pulled him in once again, kissing David with what could only be described as exasperated gratitude. 

\--------

David had poured himself some wine into a plastic cup, much like he had done a couple of times at the store after hours, only he was sitting at the table in his hotel room wasting time on his phone while he waited for Stevie to get off of work. They were going to spend some quality time together at the not-so-quality Wobbly Elm. Her, looking for someone to have her needs met, him to take his mind off of worrying about Patrick’s health.

Not that he was worrying. 

If checking WebMD a couple/few times every single day for the past two weeks was worrying then… well… David was definitely concerned. Or perhaps, uneasy. Disquieted? When he spent the night at Patrick’s and woke up in the middle of the night, he would take his phone into the bathroom with him so he could go down the Symptom CheckerTM rabbit hole once again without the fear of having the light from his screen wake up Patrick. Calming himself down enough to go back to bed was always the real struggle, and sleep deprivation had been wreaking havoc on his skin.

But everyone did it, he wagered. It was a totally normal thing to look up whatever potential thing might be wrong with you while waiting for test results so you could see the possible outcomes. You need to brace yourself for bad news. He used to do a version of it back in New York when he’d had a night out and his memory the following morning was questionable. At the sign of the first sniffle he’d be on medical websites while waiting for his test results. Ninety-five percent of the time he was free and clear from any of the horrible diseases he’d self-diagnose himself with. That one time he did, in fact, have contact dermatitis, but it was more than likely from the dingy club itself and not from making out with the Moldovian catalog model all night. And sure, Patrick’s high cholesterol was a bit of a shock, but it didn’t need to be that concerning. It was manageable. It wasn’t a harbinger of things to come.

So while they waited for Patrick’s definitive bloodwork to come back any day now,  
David clicked yet another link and scrolled through yet another list of symptoms and felt the ever-present weight on his chest get even heavier. _Persistent neurological problems. Tremors, involuntary muscle movements, clumsy gait and speech difficulty…_

He flipped over the phone and placed it hard on the table. “Nope.” He said out loud to no one. “Nope. No. Patrick’s fine. He’s totally fine.” David ran his hands over his face as if physically wiping away the bad thoughts from his mind. But they wouldn’t budge. So he thought back a while, once again reevaluating Patrick’s behavior. Was he, in fact, totally fine? He hadn’t had a cold since right after the store opened. And he was always working out, doing baseball things and using the Bowflex in Ray’s basement. He eats… well, he eats as well as David does. Which is to say, carb forward with a heavy helping of cheese, he painfully admits to himself. And he *has* been really tired, like, all the time lately and going to bed early because of headaches. He kept assuring David that he’s just recovering from the long hours during Singles Week, but that was a while ago. And just the other night he postponed balancing the day’s receipts to the following morning because he “felt kinda off.”

Fuck.

David berated himself. All he had been concerned about was being left alone with Ray to finish the movies Patrick had begged off. 

David flipped over his phone, unlocked it, and once again pulled up the tabs he’d saved from WebMD. Clicking through more pages and links didn’t help him in any way. What he did end up with were multiple open tabs for everything from hay fever to pneumococcal meningitis and cerebral hemorrhage. 

“Fuck.” 

As before, the more he read, the more confused he got. But this time he didn’t check himself and stop his destructive behavior. What *about* diabetic ketoacidosis? He had no idea what it was, or how Patrick could have it, but it sure sounded terrible! He did say he felt nauseous the other day, but they both had blamed it on the Cafe.

He stood up, anxiety pouring off of him and he started pacing manically. After a lap or two around the room, he headed out the door and to the hotel’s office to find Stevie.

\--------

Patrick’s phone pinged with a new text message.

**Stevie:** you need to get to the hotel

**Patrick:** Why? what’s up?

**Stevie:** David is freaking out

**Patrick: **???  
**Patrick:** What happened?

**Stevie:** hes convinced ur dying and needs someone thats not me to talk him off the ledge

**Patrick:** WHAT?

**Stevie:** not literal. just get your ass over here

Patrick arrived at the hotel about ten minutes after Stevie’s last text. He opened the door to the motel’s office and immediately found himself enveloped by David. His boyfriend clung to him for a while before he was able to push him back slightly in order to take a look at him. David’s eyes darted and landed everywhere but Patrick’s face.

Patrick rested his hands on David’s shoulders, gently massaging the tense muscles they found there. He asked, “What’s going on?”

“I’m just being ridiculous.” He sniffed and swept his hand alongside his eyes, smearing some of the tears that had escaped. 

Patrick reached up with the cuff of his shirt and helped. “You probably are, but can we still talk about it?”

David pressed his lips together, still not looking Patrick in the eye. He took in a deep breath and held it for a moment before he could continue.

“Why are you sick?”

This caught Patrick off guard. “I’m not sick, David.”

“Yes, you are. You have liver enzymes and Hemochromatosis and-and high cholesterol.” His hands were waving about Patrick. 

“I don’t know about the other things you just said, but yes, I have high cholesterol. But we’re working on that. You’re helping me with that.” Patrick’s hand gently, yet assuredly, swept along the side of David’s face, his fingers digging into the other man’s hairline. “What’s really going on?”

A tiny noise escaped David’s lips as he looked skyward. Evidently eye-contact wasn’t feasible at the moment. “I never really-” David stopped, collecting his breath and trying again. “I never cared about people leaving... before. I mean, I did,” David’s eyes darted down, hazarding a quick glance of Patrick’s face before rolling them back up in defeat with a huff, “because they always left. But not like this.” He clutched his arms tighter, bringing his gaze lower, bypassing Patrick’s eyes and landing on his shoulder instead. “Not you.”

Patrick ducked down, trying to catch David’s gaze. His voice was soft and hushed. Reverent. “David, I’m not going anywhere.”

David’s eyes finally met his own and leveled him. “You don’t know that.”

Patrick shook his head slightly. “I’m not going anywhere willingly.”

“That’s worse!” David threw his hands up in frustration, breaking Patrick’s warm and firm hold on his shoulders. “Finally someone *wants* to stay with me and fate gives you Ebola!”

Patrick chuckled, slightly exasperated but whole-heartedly smitten. “I’m not going to get Ebola, David.”

“I know.” His tone was churlish and defeated. David stepped closer toward Patrick and leaned forward until his forehead was anchored onto Patrick’s chest. The other man wrapped his arms around him, holding him in a solid embrace as he slowly ran his hands up and down the back of David’s soft sweater, giving him time to continue. “I just… I know I’m being ridiculous,” This got him a kiss on the top of his head, “but I’ve never had so much to lose.”

Patrick’s hands stopped. He pulled David up and pressed a firm kiss onto his mouth. Weaving his arms around his neck he pulled David closer, enveloping him with his arms, with his mouth. He moved slowly and lavished David’s soft lips his own. He pulled back slightly, breathing in and flooding his senses with as much as he could, feeling like he could drown in this man. 

His words were quiet and reverent like a prayer. “I love you, David Rose. Thank you for caring so much about me.”

David deflated a little. “Okay, you don’t need to make fun.”

“I’m not. I’m being one hundred percent honest,” Patrick protested and pulled back some more, meeting David’s eyes. “The groceries, the bottle of vitamins on my dresser, the significant reduction in pizza for dinner,” David groaned at that, apparently feeling the loss, “all of these little changes and sometimes not-so-subtle suggestions are reminders of how much you love me and want to keep me around. So, thank you.” His warm smile chased some of the fear out of David’s heart. 

While they were at the store the following morning, Patrick received the call from his doctor that they had been waiting for. He placed it on speaker so David could listen along with him. She told him that his blood tests all came back normal, and the previous test was more than likely a false positive which happens on occasion. He’d still need to manage his diet to lower his cholesterol or else she’d have to start him on medication. Patrick thanked her and hung up as he felt David physically relaxing next to him. 

“So…” Patrick started and David shook his head, enveloping him in a fierce hug. 

“I’m so relieved,” David mumbled into his shoulder before digging his nose into Patrick’s neck. 

“Me too.” Patrick agreed. His hands rubbed along David’s back as he felt even more tension release from him. “But please do me a favor and never, ever go on WebMD ever again.”


End file.
